


Snips & Strums

by Leoblooms



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M, barbershop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 21:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8861908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leoblooms/pseuds/Leoblooms
Summary: Richard is a well-known barber on Penny Lane, Paul is a leather-wearing guitarist who plays near Richard’s barbershop. They soon finally become acquainted, and Richard realizes he would do just about anything for the young man. Even if it means putting himself in the middle of a dangerous situation involving a notorious gang.Based on the neat barbershop au by Junkraty and with help from Gal-ix





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had no intention to make this a multi-chapter story, but I really wanted to put a part out since I took forever. I could not think of a proper plot at first, but I’m hoping I made the right decision to go with this. I really hope I’m doing this au justice!  
> Also, I will continue this once i've finished Run for Your Life, so please be patient with me. Thank you!

Richard Starkey, most, if not everyone knew the beloved barber of Penny Lane. Always kind, always friendly, and always doing great work for both men and women alike. His demeanor may come off as intimidating at first, what with his slicked back hair and piercing, blue eyes, but that façade quickly melted to the warm person he was. He joked and told stories, whether they were true or not was uncertain, to his customers and constantly kept them entertained. Richard enjoyed himself and loved his job, but what he loved the most was the guitarist that played just a few steps away from his shop.

Richard, not even knowing the man’s name, knew just about every song the guitarist would play. He would always take the chance when business was slow to turn down the Elvis playing on the radio, and listen closely. Hearing every little strum, Richard would tap along a beat to the song. Once he began to remember the lyrics, he would actually sing along quietly. Although he’d like to see the face behind the music, Richard never made a move to do so, considering it useless. Though one day, as he finished his last customer, in walked a man clad in leather with a guitar in hand.

“Sorry, but I’m actually about to close.” Richard said, feeling a bit bad turning him away. The guitarist wiped at his forehead and ran his fingers through his messy, dark hair.

“Can’t you give me a quick trim?” he pouted his lips, and widened his eyes. Ringo sighed , turning the chair to the guitarist.

“I suppose.” he gave a small smile.

“A good bloke you are, Ritchie!” Paul praised, placing his guitar down, and plopping into the seat.

“You know my name?”

“Course I do, I always hear people talking about you outside.” he said as his chair was elevated. “The women weren’t kidding when they said you were handsome.” he wriggled his eyebrows with a chuckle. Richard laughed a little, hiding the pink on his cheeks.

“Er, what’s your name?” Richard thought it was only right that they both knew each other.

“Paul.” Richard nodded, moving his fingers through Paul’s hairs, taking portions to take small cuts. Paul gave a low hum.

“Strong hands too.” Paul gave a have grin. Richard swallowed as he continued to trim Paul’s dark locks.

“I hear you play outside a lot.” Richard said.

“Oh, yeah?” Paul raised one of his eyebrows. “Is that why you have the radio? So you can drown it out?” Paul chuckled.

“Not at all. You’re very good on that thing.” Richard said, glancing at the guitar propped against the wall.

“Then why aren’t I rich and famous yet?” Paul joked, shutting his eyes for a brief moment as Richard’s fingers grazed his scalp.

“Might have something to do with your exclusive playing near my shop. Can’t attract a record deal on the street.”

“’Course I can, they’ll hear me while they get their haircut.” Paul pointed out. Richard had to chuckle at Paul. Lowering Paul’s chair, Richard brushed off the guitarist and allowed him up.

“How much?” Paul asked, reaching into his pocket. Richard noticed how Paul had to search through his pocket to find money and shook his head.

“Consider it payment for getting to hear you play.” Richard grinned, Paul shot a smile back.

“Shit, I’ll be sure to play even closer to your shop tomorrow if it means a free cut.” Paul grabbed Richard’s hand, giving it a hard shake. Paul left without much else to say, but Richard knew he’d see the young man again.

Days passed, and each day, Paul played near Richard’s shop. Richard would listen through the Elvis playing, and hum along like always. Customers never took too much notice, and when they did, they never bothered to ask. At closing time, Paul would stop by, but not always for a trim.

“Could I get a bit of that cologne?” he’d sometimes ask.

“How about a shave?” Paul might say. And Richard would oblige without asking for any payment. He knew he shouldn’t, but something about Paul made the barber want to. He would do what Paul asked, Paul would flirt around with him, and then he would leave. As much as Richard wished for Paul to stay a little longer, he knew that couldn’t happen. After all, Paul was not truly interested. He was a young man, with a life that did not revolve around a soft barber such as him.

Today, Paul stopped by at his usual hour, this time there were two other men with him. Both had dark hair and were also clad in similar leather outfits. One wore dark shades, while the other seemed to have a constant smirk. They stood outside Richard’s shop, talking with Paul. Richard listened closely, though he missed part of their conversation. All he heard was loud, roaring laughter from the three while Paul shouted, “You bastards!” He watched as Paul entered his shop, waving good bye to them.

“Hey, Ritch, can you give us a shave?” Paul asked, already taking a seat in Richard’s chair. Richard obliged, carefully sliding the razor along Paul’s round face. Paul jokingly made a noise that sounded like a moan in his throat, but Richard kept his focus. Once he finished, Paul hopped out of the chair, and scratched his cheek.

“Really shouldn’t joke around while I have a razor near your throat.” Richard chuckled.

“How do you know I was joking? Maybe I just get really turned on by a good shave.” Paul answered with a wink. Richard felt a little flustered, and cursed to himself for being to easy to make blush. Paul went to pick up his guitar, and turned back to the barber. Richard noticed how Paul looked like he had something to say. Just before Richard could question Paul, the musician spoke.

“So, you’re done for today?”

“Yeah, why?” Richard asked. He knew Paul was aware that it was closing time, he clearly was building up to a completely different question.

“Just wondering if you wanted to come back to my place.” Paul shrugged. “Figured I could get dinner to pay you back for all the shit you’ve been doing.”

Richard smiled tenderly. “You don’t have to pay me back, I told you that.”

“I know, but I want to.”

Alright, I suppose to now.” Richard nodded, a grin still on his face.

“Great! I’ll write down where I live, and you can come over in an hour!” Nodding, Richard went to grab a piece of paper and pen for Paul. Paul quickly wrote his address, and pushed it into Richard’s hand.

“See you in an hour!” Paul winked. Richard gave another nod, reading over the address.

An hour came and passed, and Richard stood in front of a fairly shady looking apartment complex. He checked the address again to make sure this was right, and it was. Strawberry Fields Heights, buzz McCartney. The writing said, and the sign certainly did confirm that this was the building. Richard pressed the button next to McCartney, which had been handwritten and taped next to it. He smiled when Paul came to the door with a greeting.

“You’re a minute late!” Paul tsked. “Tardiness does not look good, Mister.”

“Sorry, a lad came in just as I was closing demanding I give him a shave.” Richard shot back with a laugh. Paul led the barber inside, guiding him up the flight of steps to his room.

“Hope we can both fit.” Paul half-joked.

“I’m sure we’ll manage.” Richard said as the door opened. Paul left Richard alone to go to the kitchen that connected with the main room. Standing inside, Richard realized that the place was a little small. A little was actually a bit of an understatement as everything in the place seemed to be cramped inside. Everything looked too big for the room, including Paul himself! Granted Richard lived in a fairly small home, but he had more space in his bathtub than the younger man did in his entire living space. Paul returned

with two plates, one with a small hamburger and a side of crisps, the other had solely crisps.

“Didn’t expect gourmet.” Richard said, taking a plate.

“Oh, yes, I’m quite the talented lad.”

“It takes a lot of effort to place an order. Some chefs won’t dare to face the challenge.” Richard chortled. Paul feigned hurt, a hand dramatically on his chest.

“I cannot believe my ears! I slaved over a hot stove all day for your ungrateful arse!” Paul said in a falsetto, giving Richard a light punch on the arm.

“No need to get hysterical, hon.” Richard replied with a cheeky grin. The two sat at the table, quietly eating.

“You don’t like these?” Richard questioned, holding the sandwich that already had a huge bite in it.

“Nah, I can’t stand eating animals, or anything with a face.”

“No meat at all?”

“Yeah, I know I really don’t have the money to be picky, but I really don’t like meat.” Paul answered, then gave a sly chuckle. “Well, I shouldn’t say I don’t like any meat.” Paul said, eyes glancing down at Richard’s crotch, causing his to slightly close his legs out of self consciousness.

“Is it only you here?” Richard asked, peering around. Paul nodded, stuffing a handful of crisps inside his mouth, trying to talk through it.

“No, I have a roommate sleeping in the closet.” Paul quipped, swallowing. Richard gave a playful glare, crinkling his nose. “Yeah, it’s just me. Can’t fit much more.” Paul added.

“Do you just play guitar for money?” Richard kicked himself as Paul gave him a slightly offended look. However, the look seemed to fade, which the barber was grateful for.

“Yeah, I mean, my dad wanted me to go to college and all, but some friends got me into their little band.” Richard thought back to the leather wearing men from earlier. “Told me this shite about getting rich and famous.” Paul waved his hand around.

“Guessing that didn’t happen?”

“Nope, he became a fucking bookshop owner, librarian, I don’t fucking even know! Bastard my one mate was, decided he’d rather lock himself away with shitty books than be in a band.” Paul said, voice raising a bit. Richard winced, watching Paul’s pale face heat up and contort, only to shift back to its normal state.

“Sorry.” Richard mumbled.

“Don’t be. I mean I’ve made it fairly well. I’ve got a home, I can still play and make a bit of money. I’m doing fine.” Richard felt bad for the man. He could have done more, he could have had a better life. Yet here he was making just enough to live in this dingy little apartment. He barely knew Paul, but for some reason felt the desire to give Paul anything. Richard knew this Paul would be his downfall, but he did nothing to stop it. He was fully ready to take it all.

Richard had spaced out in his thoughts of Paul, staring at a wall when Paul snapped his fingers in his face. With a shake of his head and a couple quick blinks, Richard came out of his thoughts.

“Alright?” Paul asked. “My story that boring?”

“No, not at all!” Richard quickly answered. “I guess I’m just a bit tired. I should probably be going.” A pang of guilt hit Richard as disappointment covered Paul’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” The disappointment, like his other emotions, faded into a small grin.

“Yeah, don’t think you can get rid of me easily!” Richard wished Paul goodnight as he walked out the door. He heart did a leap at the thought of Paul’s next visit.

—

Richard turned his sing in the window from “open” to “closed,” looking out for Paul. He had heard him playing earlier, but he suddenly disappeared from his vision. It was then that the guitarist appeared again with the same two men from before. They snickered and laughed, but something about Paul seemed off. Was that a cut on his face? Richard knew he had not seen that last night.

Paul waved to the men, then greeted the barber. There was definitely a gash on his cheek, red and fresh.

“How about a quick trim, eh?” He tried to play it off like nothing was wrong, but Richard saw right through it.

“What’s this?” Richard moved closer to examine Paul’s face like his own mother would.

“Nothing, a wild guitar string hit me.” Paul joked, waving Richard off.

“Paul, please, be serious. What happened?” Richard couldn’t believe how much he even sounded like his mother right then.

Paul sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Just a little problem with a couple blokes. Got mad that I was playing in “their” area.”

“Were you in a gang fight?!”

“Those bunch of pansies are anything  _but_  a gang!” Paul snarled. 

“Has this been going on for a while?”

“Yeah, since I started playing around here, they got on my arse, but never actually fought me.” Paul explained. “Guess they finally are getting tired of me telling them to get bent.” Richard reached out to touch the mark on the man’s face, but Paul pulled away.

“Does that hurt?”

“Yeah, wanna kiss it better?”

“Cheeky. Come on, I have a first aid kit under the register.” Richard led the man over and had him sit down in the same seat. Bringing over a small, white case, he pulled out a cotton swab, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and bandaids.

“Hold still.” Richard said. He poured a bit of alcohol on the cotton, and began to carefully dab it on the cut. Paul winced a little, but stayed in place as the barber stuck a bandaid over the cut.

“Thanks, mummy. Where’s my kiss?” Paul pouted. Richard lightly slapped his arm.

“Little bastard.”

“That’s no way to talk, mum!” Richard ruffled the younger man’s dark locks, putting away the first aid supplies.

“Said you wanted a trim?” Richard reached for the scissors. Paul nodded, and Richard gave him what he wanted like he always would.


End file.
